You're a Bright Kid
by LibertyBelleAnne
Summary: Young Malcolm is confused and hurting after the fallout of his father. Gil takes him under his wing and helps to comfort and guide him. For Whumptober 2019 #20 Trembling.


**Disclaimer: I don't own any New York City Detectives or their consulting profiler with inner demons. **

**A/N: For Whumptober 2019 #20 Trembling. This story takes place a few years after Martin Whitly was arrested. So Gil is still making his way up the ranks as a police officer and Malcolm is around preteen age.**

**You're a Bright Kid**

Officer Gil Arroyo was about to head out on a stakeout when the phone on his desk started to ring. As he picked it up he hoped it was a breakthrough in his current case, so he wouldn't have to sit alone in a dark cold car all night. His hope was dashed as he listened for the caller on the other end of the line. At first, it was silent except for breathing through chattering teeth. Then a familiar voice shakily called his name.

Young Malcolm's voice sounded small and unsure over the phone. "Gil, can you come and get me?"

"Kid, It's the middle of the night. Where are you at?"

"I couldn't sleep," Malcolm's teeth were still chattering, "So I went for a walk."

"Malcolm!" Gil called out trying to get him to focus as the boy trailed off into silence.

"Right I'm...I'm in Central Park. I think I'm on the east side."

The cop pulled the phone receiver away from his mouth long enough to curse. The kid was alone and freezing in the middle of the night in an extremely unsafe place. Gil sent up a quick prayer, hoping the saying about the Lord protecting kids and fools was true. Right now Malcolm Whitly was both.

"Stay put. Don't Move," Gil ordered, "I'm coming to get you, right now."

After one final reassurance and promise to be there soon he reluctantly hung up his phone, breaking his only physical connection to the kid. He ran to his car and sped to Central Park, trying to outrun any bad case scenarios. He'd responded to too many calls only to find a young life ended before it truly had a chance to start. He clenched the steering wheel till his hands went white. Hazardously throwing the car into park, he ran to where the kid said he'd be. He studied the location and intentions of multiple people as he rushed past. Anyone could be a threat to a young rich kid out alone in the middle of the night. He picked up speed, trying and failing to outrun his thoughts. He'd been on the job long enough to know the dark side of humanity. Malcolm had seen it in the eyes of his own father. Gil had self-appointed himself to protect the kid, that had saved him at a high cost, from being a victim to any more of it. He needed to find Malcolm before anyone else did.

He found Malcolm huddled on a park bench, pale and trembling. He was hugging his drawn-up knees close with his face bowed and buried into his lanky limbs. His insufficient flannel pajamas doing little to keep out the cool, fall air. At least he was wearing shoes this time. His head shot up when Gil sat next to him with a sigh. The officer noted his wide, bloodshot eyes with dark bruising surrounding the left one.

"Hey Kid," Gil gave him a warm smile as he shrugged out of his coat before wrapping it around his skinny shoulders. Since Malcolm had saved his life a few years ago, he'd learned harping and chastising the boy did nothing but upset him in the night hours. There would be time later to try and warn and guide the boy from harmful places and practices. But in the darkness, it was better to just be there and let Malcolm set the pace.

They sat together in silence for some time.

"Some kids at school said I was like my dad," Malcolm spoke quietly.

Gil clasped a friendly hand on the back of the kid's neck, squeezing gently to reassure the hurting boy, "They the ones that gave you that shiner?"

Malcolm shrugged out from under his hand as he looked away and remained silent.

Gil sighed looking up at the smog covered night sky as he ran a hand through his own dark hair. He gathered his thoughts before he turned back to the boy, trying to catch his eye. Malcolm avoided looking at him, folding tightly back into himself. Gil finally just placed a hand gently against the side of his face to turn his eyes to meet his own. Once eye contact was made he told him in a firm voice. "Malcolm, you are not your father."

"But what if I am? He said we're the same." Gil couldn't stand the despair in his voice.

"You know that's not how genetics works. You always have a choice about who you are. You get to decide. No one else can tell you who you are."

"I want to be a good man," Malcolm spoke so quietly Gil didn't think he meant to say it aloud, "Like you."

"You become the best Malcolm you can be," Gil pulled him against his side in a hug, "You're already good."

"I want to help people," Malcolm decided in a stronger voice. He'd stopped trembling.

Gil made a decision as well. He didn't want Malcolm to be alone. He didn't want to take him home to a house full of painful dreams and memories. Malcolm Whitly was no longer an obligation or a life debt, he was a young hurting boy that Gil had come to care about deeply. He desperately wanted to help this kid, so he asked, "How about you start right now. You want to go on a stakeout with me?"

"Can I really?" Malcolm's eyes lit up for the first time as he gave a real genuine smile.

"Of course," Gil grinned back, "You're a bright kid."


End file.
